Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, Draco and Luna would end up marrying. But since they didn't, I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, and I do not obviously own anything more than the plot, and of course, the purple-rimmed Tonsilprickles and wollypirckles.

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Draco Malfoy had always been afraid; afraid that she would think his presence filth; afraid that touching her, even in the subtlest of ways, would somehow mange to stain the innocence that she radiated; afraid that he would break her, even unintentionally; and afraid that she would see past the mask that he had worn for so long. So it was true; Draco Malfoy was afraid—afraid that she would leave him, as he had predicted long before, for someone better, and someone worthy.

And yet Draco had hoped—foolishly—that she would stay with him. Stay with he, who has tortured and betrayed; he, who has hurt and not regret; and he, who has given her nothing but sorrow and regret. It was stupid, really; a selfish thought—wishful thinking on his part, but for some inexplicable reason, he had believed that she would willingly remain beside him. She, who was innocent and pure; she, who was good and unattainable; and she, who had transpired to be everything he was not.

And yet she had stayed. For all those years, despite all her tears and pain and suffering, she had stayed. For reasons unexplainable, she had stayed with him. And then, just like that, it had ended. Luna Lovegood had just got up and left. No note, no explanation, no goodbye—she just left. And during those excruciating six weeks, Draco Malfoy had finally realized something; he had never, ever felt more alone. Even during sixth year, when the Dark Lord had given him the order to kill Dumbledore as a punishment for his father’s mistakes. But along with this epiphany, something had also begun to dawn on him: he loved her.

Maybe it was the eyes; dreamy, translucent, and the palest shade of blue. She had a presence about her; there, but not entirely. Either way, she had been his rock; never changing, always there. Trusting his decisions, and rarely giving her opinion; she was always too caught up in looking for her, what was it again? Crumple-Horned Snorkack?

Draco smiled at the thought, remembering all the nights they had stayed up late, discussing and debating the creatures that her father wrote about in The Quibbler. Luna remained forever adamant about their existence, and Draco was too weary to tell her otherwise. So in the end, Draco would end up losing the argument, and Luna would always make up for it with a kiss. ‘Worth wounding my ego for’, he had told her at one point in time. She had merely smiled, and allowed herself to be swept up in his arms, softly breathing in the scent of his clothes, and running her fingers through his hair. ‘You’re my favorite wollyprickle’ she had murmured against his lips.

However two years later, though, Draco had found himself staring into the fire with red, bloodshot eyes. Seven weeks passed since Luna had left, and seven weeks went by in which he had gone without sleep, still remembered the way she would uttered his name while she was asleep, blissfully unaware that he was still awake, just listening to her breathing and tenderly kissing the blonde tendrils of hair that fanned out against her pillow.

Quietly, almost inaudible, he had whispered, “Am I still your favorite now?”

“Oh don’t be silly, Draco, of course you are.”

And then, for one dreadful minute in time, Draco’s heart and brain had seemed to stop functioning. His lungs refused to give him a sufficient amount of air and the only thing he was capable of doing was whipping around in his seat at lightning speed.

Her clothes were ripped and her face was streaked in grime, but there she was, as beautiful as the first time he had met her. Of course, he didn’t know it then, but Luna would become his everything. Reminiscent of his mother’s words, she would inevitably transpire to be the only person in the entire world he could ever love more than himself.

Suddenly, Luna’s lips moved. Sound came out, but none of the words had reached Draco’s ears.

“W-w-what?” He uttered intelligibly.

She paused for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I said,” she repeated, “why would you think that you were no longer my favorite?”

Strangely, Draco’s legs seemed to ache as he considered the question. It felt as though they were going to scream and fall off if he did not run over to Luna and capture her then. Taking the initiative, Draco did just that. Fumbling out of his seat, not caring how ridiculous he looked, he had bounded over toward her, pressing his lips against her own in an almost ravenous sort of way.

It was a powerful sort of kiss, determined to show her every emotion that he had suffered through in her absence: anger, loathing, hunger. But Luna did not mind; Draco would never hurt her. He was just venting his frustrations and he would get over it soon enough.

Minutes later, maybe even hours (though Luna was prone to exaggerating) they had broke apart from their kiss. Luna’s face was flushed and it seemed as though everywhere he had touched her, her skin was searing hot. Draco, on the other hand, was vehement to push away his lust to confront the situation and told her, almost coldly, “You left me.”

The delicate blonde across from him, however, did not seem to register the accusation in his tone, and replied in that dreamy, far-off tone of hers, “I suspected nargles.”

Draco scowled. “And since when the bloody hell did that have anything to do with it?” He snapped at her impatiently.

“Well I wasn’t going to leave them to feast upon your hair; it’s their favorite shade of blonde, you know. They like it even more than mine!” She sounded slightly upset at this fact, a small pout pulling at her lips. Draco bit back a smile, trying desperately to retain his earlier fury.

“And you thought it best to just leave me here without a single goodbye? What took you so long, anyway?”

Luna bit her lip, going over the words in her head before drawling out the words quietly. “I was held captive by a hoard of purple-rimmed Tonsilprickles!” she started. “It was a shame, really, that I had to give up my butterbeer cork necklace to come back home to you. Afterwards, I had to deal with all those darn nargles. It took a while, but I suppose it was worth it—you’re worth it.”

Draco, at hearing those words froze in place, clearly taken aback by that last comment. Luna, who had noticed, morphed her expression into one of concern, and lovingly told him, “I would always keep the nargles away,” and Draco, who was incapable of saying anything more, could only kiss her passionately in hopes that she would catch his hidden message.

I love you.

And needless to say, there was nothing more that needed to be said.

Author's Note: Muahahaha! One shot for Draco and Luna. Do with this what you will - read it, review it, ignore it. Just anything but claim it as your own. And if you do leave a review -winkwink- please note that I am highly-sensitive when it comes to my writing, so constructive critisim only!